Royal Obligations of Stupidity
by Pineapple Bacardi
Summary: Constantly getting kidnapped by bandits was just one of the many perks of being Court Sorcerer of Camelot. Merlin/Arthur.


**A/N**: I have no idea where this came from. It started all angsty and ended up like, well, this. The next part of These Timeless Things should be up sometime this week. Oh, and did you guys hear? It's official, Merlin gets a fourth series!

**X**

Merlin tends to get himself into these situations a lot. He is the Court Sorcerer of Camelot after all, and it comes with certain obligations. Like constantly getting kidnapped. Merlin's not stupid, and most of the time he usually lets himself get kidnapped for the benefit of the doubt. Merlin could take out his kidnappers as easily as breathing of course, but most of the time, the poor sods are just looking for someone to get their message through to Camelot. Merlin is the favourite candidate for this sort of thing. It started right after the Court Sorcerer ceremony, a few months after Arthur's coronation. One harmless kidnapping lead to another. Even though the kidnappings were relatively harmless it didn't stop a series of extravagant rescue missions on Arthur's part, and one memorable occasion on Morgana's part.

They catch him in the middle of the night this time, which is unusual; because usually these sorts of things happen in the evening, right before Merlin heads for bed. It's nearly dawn and Merlin awakens in his study, groaning and cursing under his breath, because this is the third night in a row he's fallen asleep, head on his desk. Merlin sluggishly gathers up the papers he's been working on and puts on his cloak. He's heading down the corridor towards his bedchambers when the magic hits him. He's unconscious before he even hits the floor. Clearly these bandits know what they're doing.

It's different this time. These bandits aren't merely looking for a way to smuggle themselves into the village for shelter.

"You're joking, right?" Merlin looks between the bandits in disbelief. One is a woman, blonde hair and kind eyes, and there are two men, one big and bald and kind of dangerous-looking, and one, smaller type with large, bugling eyes. Merlin wakes up in the woods, it's morning, and his head is pounding. He's been out for a while. He should start giving his kidnappers more credit. They're getting sneakier. "Let me get this straight, you want me to kidnap one of Camelot's knights and bring him to you, because, what—he stood up your sister on her wedding day? Please say you're joking."

"It talks," the big man mumbles, beady eyes fixed upon Merlin.

Merlin throws his head back, struggling a little against the restraint around his wrists and ankles. "Why does this always happen to me?" He scans the woods around him, trying to figure out where he is, but he doesn't recognize this part of the woods. They must be beyond the Darkling woods. 

"She was in love with him," the woman says, eyes flashing, "I'm guessing that's not something you can understand, but she was in love with him and he had promised her the world. And then he never shows." 

Merlin sighs, closing his eyes. "Oh, for the love of—"

"And then I saw him, two days later," the woman rants on, "in a brothel. _A brothel. _When my sister is at home, inconsolable, he is at a brothel!"

"I'm not going to kidnap a knight," Merlin says, voice final, "I'm sorry about your sister, but clearly she deserves better so why waste your energy on this?"

"My sister needs her peace!" 

"Listen," Merlin stands up and with a flash of golden eyes, the restraints fall away, "I was being nice here, but I am not going to kidnap a knight. You can kidnap your own knight, you don't need me." Merlin throws away the ropes. "Don't you think I have more important things to do? It's nearly midday, which means I've probably already missed the first counsel meet which means that his majesty will have my head, and then flay me, and then dress me up in horrible robes for the feast."

"It makes jokes," the big man rumbles and flexes his muscles.

The woman glares at the discarded ropes.

Merlin holds up his hands in surrender. "This is what you get for kidnapping a sorcerer."

The woman punches the smaller man in the arm. "I thought you said the spell on the ropes were sufficient."

"Clearly not," the man hisses back.

"I'm going to go now," Merlin says. "And I'm taking one of your horses and maybe with any luck I'll be back in Camelot before the feast."

"This will come back to haunt you one day," the woman snarls threateningly as Merlin mounts the horse.

"I'm sure it will," Merlin mutters under his breath and rides off.

**X**

Merlin has an irritating tendency to get himself into situations like these a lot. Arthur tries patience. He tries with threats of horribly-colored banquet robes. When they visited Ealdor last month, Arthur even tried to take a few pointers from Merlin's mother. It's a difficult situation and Arthur is out of options. Guinevere, sweet and kind Guinevere, forever truly believes that Merlin has just been busy lately and will start showing up for the counsel meets when he's ready. Arthur is doubtful. Gwen always has a certain point of view. Morgana usually has another.

"He's clearly doing it just to annoy me," Arthur bursts out in an uncharacteristic show of unkingly-ness when he storms into Morgana's chamber in search for his incompetent sod of a court sorcerer.

"Clearly," Morgana says slyly, sounding strangely happy about it, and Arthur throws her a sharp glare as he scans the room. "Well, you can stop looking; he is not hiding out here."

"We have two counsel meets and he is not getting out of it this time," Arthur thunders and heads for the door.

Morgana's amused laugher follows him out of the room with an evil, "did you check the tower?"

Arthur did not check the tower and he certainly will not. Merlin likes the tower, a lot; he likes to hide up there, especially from Arthur and other counsel members and courtiers. Arthur checks the kitchens as well, because Merlin likes it there as well, mostly because the stupid sod hasn't quite understood yet that a man of Merlin's status shouldn't hang out in the kitchens and do dishes. Arthur stops by Gaius's study as well and Gaius offers a reassuring, "you know Merlin, your majesty, he's probably lost somewhere underneath all those books in his study." Arthur didn't bother checking Merlin's study but when he enters the study on the third floor Merlin is nowhere to be found. Gaius, however, has a point. The room is messy and it wouldn't surprise Arthur if the sorcerer is hiding out somewhere underneath the hundreds of books scattered all over the floor.

When Arthur heads to the drilling grounds he's even more irritated before. He's the King, he should not run around searching for his Court Sorcerer, that's why there are servants. But then again, Arthur knows Merlin too well to know that a servant will never be able to locate Merlin. Merlin's too smart for them, though Arthur would never admit it out loud. The knights are already practicing and Tristan throws him a confused glance as he storms onto the field. "Your majesty, I thought you had a counsel meet this morning," Tristan says and Arthur responds with a deathly glare.

Gwaine just laughs at Arthur when he explains the situation, and Gwaine walks away, still smirking, muttering, "apologies, your majesty," and that's that. Lancelot gives the King a weak smile and immediately starts with the search party, pulling along a reluctant-looking Leon. Arthur glares slightly after them as they leave.

Merlin doesn't show up for the morning counsel meet. Or the afternoon one. Arthur is mostly definitely not worried, only incredibly annoyed, and a bit angry. But not worried. "I will execute him for this," Arthur says tiredly when he walks into his chambers after the counsel meet to get dressed for the feast. "I will tie him to the block myself. And then I will put him in the stocks."

"He's not a servant anymore, Arthur," Morgana says, smiling slightly, amused. She's sitting by the table, reading from a large book. "You can't throw him in the stocks when he misbehaves. He has status now and everybody knows it." 

Arthur lets out a noise of disbelief. "He does not have status. He's _just_ the Court Sorcerer."

"And your most trusted advisor," Morgana adds unhelpfully.

"Debatable," Arthur mutters grumpily.

"Your right-hand man," Morgana says, and Arthur feels very irritated now. "And he rarely sleeps in the bedchambers you commissioned for him. I do wonder why that is?"

Arthur doesn't blush. He does not. Morgana is annoying. "Your point being?" Arthur bites out.

"You still haven't found him?" Morgana raises her eyebrows and puts down the book she's been reading.

"Why are you even in here?" he asks absent-mindedly and takes off his coat.

"Your chair is so much more comfortable than mine," Morgana says casually, stroking the wood with appreciation. Of course the chair would be more comfortable, considering it's especially made for the King of Camelot. "Did you look in the tower?"

"I sent Lancelot up there," Arthur says quietly.

Morgana nods and glances at Arthur with a frown. "You're not worried, are you?"

Arthur snorts, perhaps a bit too forcefully. "No, of course not."

"Maybe he got kidnapped," Morgana suggests lightly and stands up, trying to look reassuring but it doesn't help in the slightest. "He'll turn up. I'll see you at the feast." Morgana takes her book and walks out. Of course, it makes sense now. Merlin got himself kidnapped again. Moron.

Arthur is not worried.

**x**

Merlin does not show up for the feast. Guinevere looks worried throughout the evening, and Arthur pointedly ignores her, and instead sends for more wine. And some cider. And possibly ale. Morgana is also looking less smug by every moment. Arthur is not worried, he is angry at Merlin for getting kidnapped again. Arthur's angry at Merlin for seeing it as an obligation. It's stupidity. Lancelot shows up in the middle of the feast, looking flushed, and he quietly and discretely informs Arthur that Merlin has returned and he is in his chambers. Arthur wonders why he was even worried to begin with. Not that he was worried at all.

"I'm retiring early," Arthur manages to get out through clenched teeth. Some of the counsellors and courtiers raise their glasses at him as he passes and Morgana throws him a sharp glare as he walks out of the dining hall.

Arthur is relatively calm as he walks into Merlin's chambers. Merlin is sitting on the table in front of the blazing hearth, pulling off mud-drenched boots, and he looks up when Arthur enters. Merlin is dressed in black riding breeches, the same he wore yesterday, and a green cloak. Not proper clothing. "You missed the counsel meets," Arthur says, voice deathly low.

"I know," Merlin says and actually sounds apologetic. "I was sort of kidnapped."

Arthur rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Some bandits wanted something," Merlin explains casually, like it's the sort of thing that happens to Merlin often, which incidentally it does.

"And you couldn't have blasted them to Mercia or something?" Arthur asks, irritated, and stumbles across the room, the wine taking effect.

"They could've wanted something important," Merlin says and Arthur snorts. "They're my obligations, Arthur, I have responsibilities."

"Of letting bandits kidnapping you," Arthur repeats slowly. "It's stupid."

"Hey, I don't call your obligations stupid," Merlin says and hops off the table, taking off his cloak.

"I'm the King," Arthur says, as if that should explain everything and Arthur thinks it does, though Merlin clearly doesn't. "I am too tired to deal with this," Arthur sighs, his words slurring. "And you missed the feast."

The corner of Merlin's mouth tugs upwards. "You're drunk, and you were worried," Merlin says, more a statement than a question.

Arthur takes off his robe and glares at the sorcerer. Insolent. "You just disappeared. I should've known, of course. You always do this."

Merlin advances on him, smiling smugly. "You worried about me. You didn't have to be worried."

"Don't tell me—" Arthur kicks off his boots, "—if I should be worried or not. I'll worry if I want to."

Merlin leans against him, slipping his cold hands underneath Arthur's shirt. Arthur yelps quietly. "Your hands are freezing, you peasant."

"I'll warm them up," Merlin whispers slyly and plants a wet kiss against Arthur's neck.

Arthur hums and grabs the back of Merlin's neck and kisses him soundly. "You missed two counsel meets and one feast; you do know what this means, right?"

Merlin looks tormented. "Don't say it." Merlin captures Arthur's lips in another kiss. "I beg of you."

Arthur smiles, feeling victorious. "I'll have the seamstress order in new fabrics in the morning."

"No feathers," Merlin whispers pleadingly, pressing a series of warm kisses along Arthur's neck and collarbone. "And not purple. I hate purple. However, I do need another riding cloak, preferably a blue one." 

"King, I am," Arthur mutters, pushing Merlin towards the bed, "subject, you are."

Merlin laughs heartily and falls down upon the bed. Arthur crawls on top of him, like a stalking predator, pushing the tattered tunic out of the way to kiss the tender skin above Merlin's belly button. "I am at your disposal, sire," Merlin laughs and grabs Arthur's arm, pulling him up. Arthur kisses Merlin, gently, and Merlin pulls back, frowning. "Were you really that worried?" Merlin asks, eyes softening.

"No," Arthur huffs and Merlin gives him another one of those ridiculous smiles, seeing right through Arthur's horrible lie. "But, no more kidnappings. I officially relieve you from that particular obligation."

"As you wish," Merlin whispers and kisses Arthur sweetly on the lips. "Though, I wasn't kidding when I said I needed a new riding cloak."

Arthur laughs. "Shut up, Merlin." 


End file.
